Why Do We Fall?
by Deanna Janeway
Summary: A response to the Batman Massacre. Intended for Christian Bale. Characters are fictional. Please read and pass on. For a cause.


**Why Do We Fall?**

_I will simply say that I don't own the Batman characters. And that, the three main characters may not be noted on the victims list, but children just like them were. This was written solely to encourage Christian Bale to enrich the lives of those affected. _

It's with a heavy heart that I tell you that at this time in my life I am painfully aware that there is evil in this world. I even have the scars to prove it. But more than this, there is good. This is my story, and it would lighten my load to have someone read it.

We had been waiting for years. The third instalment of the Batman trilogy. The long awaited end of the Bat's reign. Our hearts were high in the week that led up to the opening premiere. We had secured our tickets online, and we had prime seats. By we, I mean me and my buddies from school. We just started high school in 9th grade. Actually, yet to start, since its summer vacation. One of my friends, Ian, had bought a cowl. Not to wear- just because he was excited. I had a t-shirt, featuring Batman and Robin the boy-wonder that I was going to wear when I saw the movie.

I looked in the mirror and straightened my short brown hair, then messed it up again. My friends all told me that I looked like Bruce Wayne. The kid from the first movie, Batman Begins. But I was named Jason, like Robin, so I couldn't see the similarity between me and Bruce. My dad's name is Bruce, and my parents swear it's a coincidence, but I see it as a bridge between me and Batman. I looked myself over once more. The grey t-shirt emblazoned with the dynamic duo matched my eyes, and I had a fresh pair of socks on. I was ready.

The doorbell rang and I sprinted through the hallway towards it.

"Mom!" I called out. She was in the kitchen, making dinner for her and my dad. "My ride's here. I'm going!" I unlocked the door and my friend Aaron's face peeked through the crack. "Be back in the morning!" I yelled to my mom. My buddies and I were going to the midnight showing. Then we would all crash at Ian's house. Or at least, that's the plan.

I pulled the door closed behind me and followed Aaron out to his parents car. We hopped into the backseat and the doors clunked closed behind us, like the gull-wing doors of the Tumbler. We were so psyched about the new movie that we talked like canaries all the way to the cinema. We were just discussing how Bane had gone from being a dumb puppet of Poison Ivy's to being an evil mastermind who matched Batman physically and mentally when Aaron's mom swivelled to face us.

"We're here!" She said cheerily. "Now you two chatterboxes are gonna have to hop out here- There's no parking and I'm in a tow-away zone." She unlocked the doors and then urged us out of them, keeping one eye on the road and one eye on us.

The moment I shut the door she rolled up, and I turned to my friend. "You had dinner yet?" He asked.

I shook my head. "Not really." He looked kind of pained, so I quickly added, "I've got money for popcorn and stuff."

He smiled and nodded and then we stalked off towards the 'refreshments' area. We stood in line for almost ten minutes. Only ten more to go until the movie starts. The movie I've been waiting for since I saw Heath Ledger star in the Dark Knight.

The lady at the counter tilted her head and inquired, "What can I do for you?"

"Um…" I contemplated the list of choices for a second. "I'll have a large combo please. With a Pepsi for the drink."

The lady paused for a second. "We only have Coke products. Is that ok?"

I nodded and she read out the total before I handed her some money, green in the artificial light. It was dark outside, and I felt weird going to see a movie at midnight.

I gathered up the popcorn bucket and the baby-sized Coke and Aaron picked up the candy that came with the combo.

"Do me a favour?" I asked him and he nodded. "Get a few straws?" I stood in the middle of the hallway while he sprinted off, and a few seconds later he was back.

"Tickets?" a uniformed cinema staff person called from a stand a few steps away. I tucked the bucket of popcorn beneath my arm and dug around in my pocket for my home-printed ticket confirmation. The man glanced at it then told me to go to number 9, where the Batman film was playing. Aaron walked by my side down the hallway, and it was as though both of us were holding our breath. Neither of us said a word as we slipped into the theatre, right behind a guy with crimson red hair.

Finding our way through the darkness and silence, we spotted Ian, whose entire wardrobe was glow-in-the-dark. He waved with an invisibly dark hand and we lunged up some stairs towards him. We sat down next to him and I wedged the oversized Coke into an armrest cup-holder. Hopefully it wouldn't obscure my vision when the movie started. I offered popcorn to Ian and Aaron, but then the lights dimmed even further, and I just let the bucket sit on my lap while my friends' arms fished around in it.

An ad for Man of Steel, a new Superman movie, was on. The character frolicked in slow motion in an oversized red cape, while laundry waved from the line like flags. Before the movie started, there was a commercial for a new Bond Movie, a new Bourne movie, a remake of Total Recall, and a Performance Art movie called Step-Up Revolution. And then, it started. The movie I had been waiting for. The final instalment in the Batman trilogy. A masterpiece.

Commissioner Gordon came onscreen then, at the funeral of Harvey Dent, Gotham's white knight, who had shown his dark side in the previous movie. I despised Harvey Dent. Maybe it was his actor, but I didn't even like him in the beginning. When he was good.

The last movie flicks through my mind and I remember that they killed off Rachel, the Batman's love interest.

Another scene is on now, and Selina Kyle is posing as Bruce Wayne's maid, but she' slow, and Bruce realizes that she stole from him.

He's got a beard now, and I hear a girl behind me, telling her boyfriend that it is most certainly _not _attractive.

Minutes later, Bruce attends a charity ball. I notice his beard is gone. The girl behind me voices her approval. The girl Bruce is dancing with is obviously Selina Kyle, Catwoman, and just about when Bruce says "That's a daring costume for a cat burglar," a door at the front of the cinema opens. A man in a bike helmet and Bane costume comes in, as does some light from a streetlamp outside.

_Yes!_ I thought to myself. _A live theatrical addition! This is sure to spark some outrage in Australia! _The premiere there had been hours before, at 12 their time. They hadn't had any performance at theirs.

_Bang! _A gunshot rips through the air. At first nobody moves. Your mind doesn't let you think the worst in situations like this until it's the only thing left to think. _Is this an elaborate part of the performance? _But then two more deafening gunshots ring out, and instinctively I drop to the floor beneath my chair. The guy at the front is laughing hysterically but I can't see him. People are screaming and running, some of them over me. I hear more gunshots**, **and someone falls on my legs. I don't move. I can see out of the corner of my eyes that Aaron is still in his chair. I shake his ankle with my hand. He's either dead or unresponsive. I let my hand drop to the floor. It lands in a warm, sticky liquid. Blood. I don't move though. I can hear the gunman walking up the stairs, laughing, mowing people down with sweeps of his assault rifle. Then everything was silent.

I kept still. I had seen enough movies to know that if I ran, I'd be killed. Hell, if I even moved, I'd be killed. As I struggled to breathe quietly, a scene from the Silence of the Lambs played in my mind. The one where, to see if Hannibal Lector is alive, the police shoot him in the leg. It must have been a coincidence; either that or I was seeing the future, because the gunman shot me in the leg.

I relaxed against the searing pain and remained still, the only tense muscles in my body the ones in my face, clenching my jaw to keep from crying out.

_Cry and you're dead. _I thought over and over to myself. The gunman walked up a few more rows. There was a woman there, alive, but barely. The pool of blood at her side gave her away.

"Who are you?" She shrieked, doing anything she could to buy herself time. Anything.

He laughed maniacally for a second, the guns hanging relaxed by his sides. "I'm the Joker!" He said, his helmet still on, but his voice still audible. She screamed and he shot her.

I stayed still. A few minutes ago, there was no god. Now, not only was there no god, but I believed in him, and I prayed to him for that young woman, who probably had her parents or a husband waiting for her at home.

The gunman continued walking up the stairs, and I heard a door open and close.

I was tired. I was losing blood. But still, I didn't check if the gunman was gone until Bane called out onscreen, "I was wondering which would break first; your body or your mind!"

I chose this as a sign that I wasn't dead. I wasn't broken. I was just hurting. The pain shooting through my leg was incomparable to anything I've ever experienced. I wanted to scream but my mind wouldn't let me. Using all the upper body strength I had, I did a push up, and, seeing that the gunman was indeed gone, I pushed myself up into a sitting position.

There were bodies everywhere. On the stairs, in seats, in the aisles. I felt as though I was going to throw up, and it smelled like somebody already had. I turned to face my friend, Aaron. He had blood all over his shirt, and he was slumped in his chair. I reached up to check his hand for a pulse. He was alive. Barely.

I looked around for Ian, but I couldn't see his face on any of the bodies. A sense of relief washed over me, but it was short lived. Another glance at Aaron told me that he was losing blood far too quickly. I needed to get help. And quick.

First though, I looked at my leg. It was pretty disgusting. The gun that he used must have been pretty powerful, because shreds of my pants were hanging off, along with skin and muscle. I almost threw up again.

But I didn't. Instead, I ripped a scarf from something close by, probably a corpse, and tightened it around my knee. This would act as a tourniquet, a word I learned from watching House. Theoretically, if I tightened the scarf, I wouldn't lose any more blood if the wound reopened. Which it probably would.

I needed to get help. Bracing myself with my hands on the seats around me, I slowly stood up. The piercing pain in my leg sent me crashing down again.

Now in my mind, I could see the comic book that I once read. Where the Joker kills Robin. And Robin's name is Jason. I couldn't let this happen to me. _The Joker cannot kill me. _I thought it over and over in my mind. _It will not happen again._

I struggled to my feet once again with newfound strength, and staggered past bodies to the stairs. The pain was really ripping into my defence now, and I felt crippled as I hobbled up the stairs to the exit.

I never made it out. They told me later, as they continue to tell me now, that I passed out from lack of blood. They tell me later that Medics were there within five minutes of me trying to get help. That the guy who got help was named Ian, and he wasn't hurt. Aaron is in a coma, they say. It'll be ok, they say.

But as I'm sitting here in this hospital bed, with scratchy sheets and a sterile white theme, I can't help thinking that it won't be. I have a cast on my leg and a drip in my arm, and the television across from me is always on. It's tuned to a kid's channel, because this is the paediatric ward. Every morning at 9:30, Batman the Brave and the Bold comes on. I can't watch it. When it comes on I have to close my eyes and grit my teeth. They say I should talk about it, but I'm afraid that if I start talking, I'll never stop.

My parents have been by my side constantly, and they've brought me my mail. Almost everybody from school last year has sent me a get well card. My grandparents in Washington sent a postcard, saying that they'll be here soon, and that they're driving, because they're now scared of planes. I've also gotten a letter from the cinema. It's probably automated, but it reads:

Dear JASON,

We're sorry you're experience with us was unsatisfactory.

Please accept these gift cards as a small token of our appreciation to your loyalty as a customer.

Best Wishes,

The staff at your local cinema

It came with gift cards, but I don't think I can go back there ever again. What if they sent us to the same theatre? _I'll sell them on e-bay._

I had one letter left. It was pretty much just a note from the hospital. It went like this:

As part of your treatment at this hospital, you will be visited tomorrow at 9:00 AM by a special guest. Please endeavour to be awake as they will not be able to interfere.

Regards, the Hospital

This would be interesting.

The following day, they rounded us up in a group in the lobby to await our 'special visitor.' There were about ten of us from the cinema. Ten Bat fans. We almost got killed for it. Everybody else had cancer. What a happy world.

Then he walked in. Wearing the suit. It was Christian Bale, dressed as Batman. Smiles filled the faces of all the children in the room. Faces that once held sorrow and fear. Just seeing our idol, the reason why we were all here, was fantastic. We could feel the pain melting away, as if he were a warm fire in the harsh snow that had overtaken our lives. Bale took his cowl off and let us wear it, one by one. He called me Robin all the while, and I could feel my strength and life returning. When the cowl was on my head, I saw the world from a new perspective. There was joy. There was hope. For a few moments of my life, I was Batman. For a few moments, I was invincible.

Then, as he was about to walk away, he turned to us all, and he said the four words that helped me through this nightmare. He turned to us, as himself, and said simply, "Why do we fall?"


End file.
